


Sherlock Holmes: Werewolf Whisperer

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Au first meeting, M/M, finding compromise, two species trying to co habit, werewolfs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: Another time, another place. Sherlock Holmes is trying to save his species from the dominate Werewolves. As humans invade their territory, clashes become more and more prevalent. Sherlock thinks with his superior intellect that he can help human kind and werewolf find common ground. It won't be easy, nor blood less.





	1. Hunter of the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my wonderful readers for all the encouraging words and for following this story with such passion. Werewolf John and his Sherlock smile into your hearts. Star

Sherlock never was a social creature. His genius level intellect would have led down many paths; he chose instead to invent his own occupation. To interact with the werewolf population that roamed the wilds of the world. Werewolves where not like the standard sized wolves that were killed to extinction long ago. Werewolves were nearly as large as horses. He wanted to understand these unique creatures before it was too late. To find a way for humans and werewolves to coexist before humans were wiped out by the more intelligent and dynamic werewolf species. 

Werewolves were feared, fierce animals, supreme killers. Legend had it that they could take human form at will. The local thinking was to trap individuals and kill them. That never worked out, as werewolves were pack animals. In huge groups they were formidable hunters. Turning the tables on humans who tried their antiquated tactics. Werewolves were extremely intelligent. So as people built new settlements out into the wilderness as mankind spread out from their crowded cities, they were forced to build walled fortresses with heavily armed security watches. Werewolves obviously had no problem killing humans. Though they killed, they never ate humans. All other kills were completely devoured by the pack.

(-_-)

“Sherlock, I have told you time and again that this whole idea of yours is insane. Greg is the captain of the guards at the Baker colonnade. “If your brother finds out you are going out again at this time of the night, he will not only kill you, he’ll have me demoted!”

“I’ll only be gone for a brief time. I want to check out one of my shelters.”

“Shelters, I thought you were trying to trap one? That was bad enough. At least take a gun with you.” Greg shakes his head in consternation. “Sherlock, please be careful.”

“Not to worry, Greg. I’ve got everything under control.” Sherlock took the reins of his horse, mounting with the ease of a seasoned rider. “I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

Sherlock heads out for one of his ‘shelters’, many miles from the colonnade. Recently, hunters had come across a lone female werewolf. She had been heavy with pups and they’d taken advantage of this fact to try to kill her. But fierce-some she had been, taking down several of the men before she had been injured; disappearing into the dense forest. Not too far from one of his shelters.

(-_-)

Tying his horse off some distance from the shelter, Sherlock enters cautiously; a small lantern in one hand. A werewolf female is within the convoluted little underground shelter. Away from the prying eyes of hunters. She is alive, and not too grievously injured. Preparing for this encounter, Sherlock had passed a wand of smoking sage plant around his body to hide his human scent. So the female wasn’t immediately alarmed by his presence. Only his light brought her attention to him. 

Sherlock immediately got down on all fours and averted his gaze from the female. Pulling his shoulder bag close, Sherlock began to talk in his deep baritone voice.

“I am not prey. I made this shelter for you. I am here to help you. I am not an aggressor. I am not like the hunters. There are medicines in my bag to heal your wound. Listen to my voice.” Sherlock moved a few inches toward her left side. “My name is Sherlock. I made this shelter for you and your kind. I knew that you would find it in your need.”

“How did you make this shelter?” A man’s tenor voice asks.

Sherlock looks up. A short sturdy grey haired male stands next to the She wolf. Sherlock is gobsmacked. This man is wearing what appears to be grey wolf skins that leave his strong arms and thighs open for inspection while covering the rest of him. There, on is left shoulder, barely visible under the skins, it looks to be a terrible rifle shot that has long ago healed over. Yet the scaring reveals that infection may have set in and caused great harm.

“These are naturally occurring caves. The entrances are too small for your kind. I merely enlarged the opening manual. That was a bit of work. Then I concealed the opening, leaving bits of wolf fur that I’ve found on the open trails.”

“So is this your woman?” Sherlock says with some semblance of politeness. It wasn’t his greatest talent. 

“No, she is not. She is of my menage. I am leader of the Waterston menage. She falls under my protection.

“I see.” Sherlock stands slowly.

Though his hair is grey. Sherlock feels the grey one is only a span of years older than himself. He midnight blue eyes, seem to sparkle in dim light of his lantern.

“Is this a wise thing that you do? Your kind will not injure you for helping one of our kind?” John looks at Sherlock with a wary gaze. “You may work the healing, but beware. Should you prove false tongued. You will not die easily.”

“I am warned.” Sherlock states, coming forward. The bullet had passed through the flesh of her lower rear right thigh. The shot appeared to have done minimal injury, nothing that couldn’t be fixed. “The distance was long and the shot’s energy dissipated before it could do real damage.” Sherlock removed items from his bag as he knelt near the She Wolf. “I would like to clean and stitch the injury. Can I administer a numbing agent?”

The She wolf makes several noises that are like huffs of air and subtle barks.

“She wants to know if this agent will harm her pups?”

Sherlock turned toward the She wolf. “The agent is topical. Only on the outer skin. It will not harm your pups.”

The She werewolf tilts her head. Huffing a great breath and laying her head down.

“I take it that’s a yes to accepting help?” Sherlock conjectured.

“She leaves the decision to me, as pain clouds her thoughts. Proceed.” Grey looks on as Sherlock attends to the She werewolf. 

“You do not fear us as the others do.” It was a statement.

“Werewolves are different. Deadly. I am hopeful that peace might come between us.”

“Your hunters seek, at any opportunity, to kill my kind. Why would you think that peace would grow between us?”

“Because if peace doesn’t come, the werewolf will be victorious. Mankind will cease to exist. Our lives are not as strong as yours.” Sherlock cleansed the wound; stitching it up carefully. The She werewolf remained calm and gave no sign of discomfort.

“You are wise, for one so young.” Grey said, a ghost of a smile crossed his thin lips. “Sherlock.” Grey said his name as if practicing it upon his lips.

“What may I call you?” Sherlock asks as he gathers his equipment back into his shoulder bag. 

“You may call me John. It is a common name among your kind.” John said with no inclination to give further revelations.

“She should not run on the leg for several spans of days. Can you hunt for her until her wound heals?”

John bends close to the She Werewolf and strokes the dark fur of her shoulder. 

“She will be cared for. Will you return to you people now?” 

“Unfortunately, I have given my word to return as soon as I can. I would like to talk further with you John. Can we meet sometime in the future?”

“I would like that.” John says as his scintillating blue eyes scan across Sherlock’s body. “I would like that very much. Look for a sign that is for only you. We will meet at a time and a place.”

Sherlock bowed in deference to the dominate male and backed slowly out of the cave. Nearly jumping for joy as he exited the hidden cave. Sherlock pranced and frolicked his way back to his horse. He had made the contact that he craved. Going home he took up his journal and began to document his meeting with John. 

(-_-)

The days seem to pass slowly. Sherlock checks his ‘shelters’, there were five, to see if there were signs of habitation. Then a week into the wait, he finds a tiny deer skin pouch in the shelter where he first met John. Opening the pouch, he finds a necklace inside. A dusky grey image of a werewolf head hung from a braided cord. The eyes of the animal are bright, shiny, midnight blue stones. Aesthetically pleasing, it is a striking piece, yet small enough to be unobtrusive if worn under his shirt. 

Sherlock smiles as he places the necklace on over his head. This is an auspicious gift. He must have made quite a good impression on that first meeting. Bolstered by this find he tracks back to his horse, to find the mare gone. Trails of blood splatter tell the story of the tethered animal being taken by werewolves.

“Shite.” It is a couple of miles back to the colonnade. Yet, if there is a hunting pack in the area. He knows he will not make that relatively short distance. Hopefully, the mare was enough to satisfy their hunger?

(-_-)

Scanning the area as he heads back toward the colonnade, he hopes the thick vegetation and tall trees will provide him some semblance of cover. He is moving as quickly as his long legs will propel him, when he feels that he is far from alone. There is a crashing and thrashing as bodies tumble toward him. Sherlock stops immediately; crouching low, waiting. 

Young werewolves trample toward him. There are six of them, three sable and three black, frisking about. They are more playing than hunting. The smallest catches his scent and comes forward. Head bumming Sherlock in his abdomen. Knocking the wind from him. Then the rest of the gang surround him. Sniffing and nudging him. Pushing him around, then dragging him by his clothing.

Sherlock cries out. Attempting to escape, but the young wolves only continue their play time at his expense.

A savage bark reverberates through the air. The youngsters stop their pranking and move away from Sherlock. He attempts to stand, only wobbling and struggling more.

A huge black male werewolf comes out of the forest and ambles over to where Sherlock lies on the ground. 

{This is it,} Sherlock thinks. {This is where I die.}

The werewolf looks at him. Then turning his head looks harder. He takes a paw, gently pressing down on Sherlock to hold him in place. Then with his large nose, he pulls apart the remnants of Sherlock’s jacket and shirt. There lying against Sherlock’s throat is John's amulet. 

Quickly, the black werewolf removes his paw. Snarls at the six youngsters who tremble visibly as they back off. Black wolf barks a command and two of the errant youths come forward. Gently using their muzzles to help Sherlock to his feet. Then bowing with respect they back off quickly sitting down quietly nearby. 

The black male barks more orders and a black female and another pair of sable colored werewolves come forward. The black female sniffs at Sherlock. She questions the male with huffs and barks. The male stands tall, pushing at the muzzle of his female as the other couple looks on.

“Hello.” Sherlock starts. “I am Sherlock, I have spoken to John.”

The female crosses over to Sherlock, softly gripping him in her mouth. She lifts him into the air, as he stills himself, and places him down upon the males shoulders. The male shakes a little bit, as Sherlock takes a tight grip to keep from falling off. The sable female turns, running into the forest. 

“I guess this means I’m going with?” Sherlock uses his hands to grip the neck fur and his strong thighs to snug onto the male’s neck. The black female keeps an eye on him. As they all move toward the wilds, the outlying hills, the youngsters bring up the rear. Still playing, nipping and tugging at each other.

“Not exactly how I imagined I’d be introduced to werewolf society.” Sherlock says aloud. Not knowing if his travel companions understood his words. “As a tasty morsel.” Sherlock observes the female looking pained at his constant noise.

“Shutting up now.” Sherlock looks constrained and bored at the same time.

(-_-)

The grey wolf is a tad smaller than his compatriots, yet his people held him in highest esteem. His running stride is slightly off due to a severe wound to his left shoulder; yet he is known as a superior tracker, provider and leader. His people will and have done anything for him. He is called Jah -- hanal, sky eyes. Only a very few of the People have the dark blue eyes of night that their leader has. Only those with the strength of spirit to hold that power within themselves survive the challenge to fulfill their manifestation into this world.

The People have made a kill. The horse will provide a good meal for all of those in attendance. Jah -- hanal walked up to were the meat is being portioned out. Immediately recognizing the horse as the animal that Sherlock had been riding.

Barking out orders. He demands what knowledge there is known about the human who rode this beast?

Hurriedly, his second in command moves forward, a sable female at his side, to notify his leader that the human is found. Parents that were airing their pups found him. Recognizing the amulet that he wore they were bringing him to the Waterston’s menage holding.

“Is he injured?” Jah demands. His voice rough with concern.

“Hunter of the stars, he is but touched by our pups.” The sable female states.

“Bring him to me when he arrives.” Jah looks relieved. He turns to walk to his dwelling.

“I have never seen Hunter so disturbed before?” The sable female says.

“This human means a great deal to the Hunter. More than he should, I think.”


	2. Saving Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is saved. John is thrilled. And the whole world of werewolf and mankind is going to have to adopt the new way that everything is configured. And Sherlock really is a girls name. Smiley face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks dear readers for your comments and kudos. All are appreciated.

Sherlock is deposited, quite tenderly, onto the ground. The black female uses her muzzle to push him in the direction that he needs to go. He can see nothing at first. Then from out of nowhere, he can see a grey werewolf approaching.

{How the hell.} He thinks. {It is like he came out of nowhere and nothing. Not magic.} Sherlock is sure it is not magic. 

“John. It is good to see you again, my frie...” The word is interrupted as the werewolf comes forward super quick and engulfs him with a werewolf hug that nearly cracks his spine. Sherlock exhales violently and clings to the grey with his last bit of waning strength. 

Then, like magic, the huge grey werewolf begins to change, morphing into the familiar form that Sherlock knows. Blinking, Sherlock sees a werewolf replaced with the human dressed in grey skins. John still has a death grip on Sherlock.

John exhales, pulling Sherlock out to arm’s length and looking him over intensely. “When I saw your horse dismembered. I feared the very worst.” He takes another breath and pulls Sherlock in for another life threatening hug.

“John.” Sherlock manages a word with his last exhaled breath.

“Apologies.” John relinquishes his grip on Sherlock, then has to catch him as he falls. 

“So you CAN change from werewolf to man.” Sherlock states as he looks at John amazed. Eyes wide with fascination. 

“Only certain Werewolves can manifest.” John fingers the amulet that he made for Sherlock. “Thank the moon above that you found it before the hunters found you. Certain of our kind do not look kindly on humans. We are many times slaughtered, not for food or pelts, but only to release our blood into the sacred ground.”

“You do owe me a horse, John.” Sherlock comments as he walks attached to John. 

John did not want to let go of Sherlock. Holding him flush against his body as he walked him further east.

“A horse is the least of our worries.” John smiles beautifully at Sherlock.

“Damn.” Sherlock covers his eyes with his left hand. “I have to get back before they come looking for me. I will be missed. My brother is the government agent in this region. He will turn over mountains to find me.”

“That is something I can mend.” John states.

“What, mend my brother? God, I would love you forever. Or mend me getting back in a timely manner? You are a miracle worker John.” 

“I’ll take that.” John says.

“I’m sure you will.” Sherlock counters.

They come to a huge stone placed near several mounds.

“Home?” Sherlock inquires.

“You are observant, for a human.” John holds the huge stone, pressing it to the left. Easily it moves aside. Inside the mound is a dwelling.

“I thought that your packs were nomadic?” Sherlock looks into the mound and is surprised by the fairy light effect that illuminates the interior.

“We are.” John replies. “We follow the large food animals as they move from grassland to grassland.

Then a young woman with light brown fur dressing appears from the interior of the dwelling.

“Sherlock, this is Molly.”

Mol_ly comes forward and sniffs at Sherlock.

“Your woman?” Sherlock asks, very interested in the answer.

Mol_ly giggles. “Jah, bends with any wind.” She tilts her head, smiling at Sherlock as if he’s not getting the joke at all.

“I’ve had the youngsters refresh your cedar, Jah. The dwelling is safe and secure.” Just as she finishes several yearling werewolves jostling each other as they enter the room. They calm down and walk sedately out of the dwelling.

“I’ll leave you to your own intentions.” Molly says, walking out.

“I do not have ‘a’ woman, nor a man, at this time.” John states unequivocally.

Sherlock looks at his shoes and takes a breath. “I.”

“I know that you have no one in your life. There are only passing scents of friends and acquaintances upon your person. Remember you are dealing with beings whose olfactory sensors are many, many times yours.” 

“I stand corrected.” Sherlock stands up straight and looks longingly at John.

John draws Sherlock tighter into his embrace. Sherlock does not struggle nor resist. John takes that as a signal to continue. John presses a passionate kiss upon Sherlock’s pliant lips. Sherlock melts into John’s embrace. He can barely breathe, he clings to John as his world spins out of any concept of control. 

John breathes for Sherlock. It’s remarkable and intoxicating.

“So ‘bends with any wind’ means?”

“Means I corrupt all hearts equally.” John smirks at Molly’s little joke.

“I believe I am quite corruptible.” There is a look of adoration on Sherlock’s youthful face.

(-_-)

“Lestrade, where is my brother?” Mycroft is not angry, he never gets angry, yet there were areas that brought out a certain menacing quality in him that is disturbing.

“He went out early this morning and it’s barely mid afternoon. There’s still time for him to show up.” Lestrade is wary of giving too much information to Mycroft. The head of the local government is just not reliably logical when it comes to his little bother.

“I am to be kept informed, should he not turn up by nightfall, Lestrade. I’ll not lose him due to his own recklessness.”

“Understood, Mr. Holmes.” Lestrade give a slight bow to try to assuage the frayed nerves of the Government. 

As Mr. Holmes turned crisply and left, Lestrade slumped against his desk. “I am so going to kill Sherlock.” He vowed.

(-_-)

“I will take much pleasure in corrupting your body and soul, Sherlock. The time and place will happen for us. Now I fear there is no time. Your people will miss you. We must get you back to them, you must make an excuse to be away from the colonnade for several spans of weeks. Then you can rightfully return here in relative security. It is time for our two peoples to find common ground. I would like you to become a representative for my people.”

A dark coated female stands at the threshold. Her young pups squirming with excitement at her feet. She yips her request to enter.

“Oddra. Come in, come in.” John says.

This is the She werewolf that Sherlock helped with her leg wound.

The she enters, coming forward to sniff at Sherlock. Her pups so happy to meet the human that their mother has spoken so highly of tumble toward him. Jumping on top the slender human. The four pups knock him to the ground with their boundless enthusiasm. 

Oddra barks in annoyance. The pups are licking and pulling on Sherlock as John attempts to extricate him from the pup’s chaotic grip.

John barks loudly. The pups stop their rough housing and slink back to the safety of their mother’s legs. She comes forward, looking at John expectantly.

“Oddra is thankful for your assistance when she was recently injured.” John states with eyes on the pups; daring them to make a move. “To honor your actions, she has named her eldest daughter after you. This is a high honor, Sherlock. She is one of our most exceptional hunters and to name her first daughter after you, a human, has never been done in our history.”

A young female pup comes forward, head held high. She sniffs Sherlock, coming close, she nuzzles the side of his face. Licking his surprised expression repeatedly. 

“Sherlock, I would like you to meet, Oddra-Sherlock.” John’s voice is formal, proud in its timbre. 

“Tell her, I’m truly honored by her thoughtfulness.” Sherlock puts his arm around the pup and gives her a not hug that John finds endearing.

“Know this Sherlock. As Oddra makes this decision, as she uses a human name. She also marks her daughter. There are those of the People who hate humans and will make Oddra-Sherlock’s life difficult.”

“For that I am truly sorry.” Sherlock stands with the help of his namesake. “Maybe you should advise Oddra that this isn’t a great idea. I do not wish her pup any harm on my account. We can find another way to do an honor.”

“She thought that you might feel this way, so she proposes that she adopt you. If you become a part of her family. Other werewolves would be hard pressed to do ill to you. She would have the right to challenge them and if she bested them it would bring great shame upon their family.”

“That hardly seems any better. Putting Oddra in jeopardy?” Sherlock approaches the large female. Stroking her necklace hairs as he had seen John do in the cave. 

John laughs. “The challenge is not to fight, my dear. It is to see who can bring back the largest kill. This requires great physical strength. Few can haul as much as Oddra can. I’ve seen her drag a bull moose high into a tree to keep it safe from other predators.”

“Then I accept her offer to become part of her family. Will this be in anyway painful?” Sherlock looks a bit sheepish. Not knowing what kind of procedure Oddra has in store for him.

Oddra takes Sherlock’s hand into her mouth and bites down hard enough to break the skin. Several teeth marks are left on his hand. She then licks the slight trace of blood that leaks from the marks.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad.” Sherlock looks into the eyes of the huge female and she crushes him to her with a one paw hug.

“I am witness. Oddra, the daughter of Daintreen, has taken Sherlock Holmes, of the human clan, to be apart of her family. I have seen her name her eldest daughter after him. Now the families of mankind and werewolf are united. I task no werewolf to come between Oddra and her family, nor harm her kin, nor wish any of the human’s family disaster. I, Jah -- hanal do acknowledge this action and confirm its validity.”

“Did we just do something rather intensely life altering, world altering and possibly connecting all humans to all werewolves?” Sherlock is a teensy bit shocky at what has just transpired.

“You have been instrumental in the end of animosity between our two species, Sherlock.”

“But this won’t end all the bad blood between us. This one commitment isn’t enough. There will still be blood and death. Men and werewolves will still find it in their hearts to kill each other.”

“Yes. This one small step will not amend all. Yet it is a small step that has never been before, Sherlock. In our philosophy...” 

“Really, philosophy?” Sherlock asks incredulously. 

“Yes, our philosophy is that all life is precious. That we are interconnected. The prey and the food animals, the earth and the sky, the water and the wind. Now we are close to finding the truth of it.”

“I have to get home.” Sherlock remembers.

“Yes, that is our first concern.” John goes to a corner of his dwelling and retrieves a large sling bag. Throwing the bag at Sherlock he moves toward the entrance. Oddra and her pups follow. Sherlock bringing up the rear. 

Outside, John is full werewolf. His midnight blue eyes are mesmerizing. He makes several noises.

**Straddle me.**

John’s noises make words in Sherlock’s head. Sherlock stares gobsmacked.

“I understood your wolf words. How is that possible?”

**Connections may have connected.** John gives a were-wolfish grin. **Come, the sooner we are there, the sooner we can be here.**

Sherlock grabs the fur at John’s shoulder and pulls himself up to straddle the werewolf. 

They were off. A fast pace that eats up the distance between two worlds. Molly watches from her place atop an adjoining mound.

“Peace go with you John and Sherlock. Peace and happiness at least.”


	3. The Fire that doesn't Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entering the colonnade, John and Sherlock have to deal with Lestrade and Mycroft. Things look to be easy, as they maneuver their way in and out. Until the hunter dogs attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again for my passion readers. Thanks for the great comments that drive me to write.

Sherlock and John walked up to the colonnade. John is dressed in clothes that he’d had Sherlock carry in his sling bag. He had run, with Sherlock on his shoulders, most of the way to make it to the colonnade as night fell. They walked side by side now, though Sherlock is extremely on edge. He wanted John to stay outside and wait for him. John had refused. Stating that he didn’t want Sherlock to be ‘accosted’ by the humans who might think ill of him. Ask questions. Where was his horse? How did he get back to the colonnade?

“They are going to want to know who you are and where you are from.” Sherlock countered.

“I’m a dear friend from the far Westerns.”

“Only a hand full of people have visited the far Westerns. Those mountains are said to be treacherous, Inhabited by people only spoken of in whispers.” Sherlock is not happy about this.

“You need to gather the items you need for our trip and to inform your people that you will return. How hard is that to perform?”

“You obviously have not met my brother.” Sherlock did not look amused.

Taking John through the streets of the colonnade. Hoping not to meet Mycroft. Sherlock sees Lestrade approaching.

“Sherlock, your brother has been all over me asking when you’d be back. Hello, who’s your friend?”

Sherlock turned to John, stunned. 

“I’m John Waterston, from the Westerns.” John extended his hand and took a deep breath at the same time. Obviously checking Lestrade out, werewolf style. 

Would Sherlock ever get used to how natural John appears. The werewolf seems so very human, even to his highly observational eyes.

“Glad to meet you, John. Sherlock will you please check in with your brother before you go anywhere or do anything?”

“I’m really trying to get situated to leave the colonnade for a few weeks, Lestrade.”

“You won’t have to worry about him.” John offered. “I can vouchsafe his travels, as I will be going with him.”

Lestrade renewed his inspection of John. He can see the bullet wound on his left shoulder from under his shirt. “You involved in the Werewolf Wars?”

“Yes, I have been involved, suffering from a bullet that diverted from its true path.”

“I’m going to do some research in the Westerns. Vital work, I want to see it the Westerns have developed a way to neutralize the impact of the Werewolves.” Sherlock is being calm. His face a mask of cold logic.

“I know, I know. You’re always checking things out. Just please talk to Mycroft, before he has a heart attack or gives me one. Nice meeting you John. Take good care of our boy here. He has the survival instincts of a may fly.” Lestrade chuckles at his little joke as he continues down the street.

“I like him.” John smiles and continues walking. “I really want to meet your brother now. Lestrade paints him as a pretty odd bird.”

“You have no idea.” Sherlock has to smile too.

Sherlock gathers his travel bags, stuffing belongings, journey books, anything he can think he’d possibly need. 

It was then that Mycroft darkened his doorway. 

“You were coming to see me?” Mycroft demands in his most imperious voice.

“John, I hesitate to introduce you to the thorn in my brain that is called Mycroft Holmes. Brother mine, my friend, John Waterston.”

Mycroft didn’t extend a hand nor even spare a look in John’s direction.

“What exactly are you doing, Sherlock? You haven’t the skill sets to go traversing the wilds. I don’t want to have to restrain you like some wayward child.”

John bristled. “Listen, Mr. Holmes. Sherlock is not a child. Nor he is to be treated like one. Not while I am at his side.”

Both Holmes brother’s eye brows lift into the stratosphere. 

Now Mycroft turns his rather scathing attention to John. John stands his ground, squaring his shoulders and tilting his head at a tiny angle. A definite sign of dominance on his part. The taller man stares for a couple of seconds more, before moving his eyes to the tip of his umbrella on the floor. 

“Shite, John. I’ve never seen anyone out stare Mycroft. Can I keep you forever?” Sherlock is practically grinning his arse off. Which is so out of character for him that even John does a double take. Nudging Sherlock to see if he’s a real person or a figment of the worlds imagination.

“We’re off.” Sherlock gathers up his self assurance, snarky attitude and bags. “I’ll be back when I want to and not before.”

“You will not.” Mycroft sets his umbrella up across the doorway. Blocking Sherlock’s exit. 

John forcefully knocks the umbrella from Mycroft’s hand, grasping it, thrusting it into Mycroft’s neck forcing him against the wall.  
“My concern is whether or not you understood my earlier words. I hate repeating myself. So if you need a physical reminder. I’d be more than happy to instigate some lacerations, bruising, possibly a broken bone or two?”

Mycroft looks dutifully distressed. Lowering his eye contact; he nods in agreement. He sidles away from the doorway. Watching as Sherlock exits his room, John glares at Mycroft as he follows Sherlock out.

(-_-)

Sherlock has a spring in his step. He is sure that they will make it out of the colonnade in one piece.

“Well, he is a” – John whispers a subdued tiny bark. Making sure there is no one in ear shot.

“John that was positively filthy.” Sherlock hooks his left arm around John’s neck and embraces him soundly.

“If talking dirty is all it takes to get you going. I have a library of words for you Sherlock Holmes.”

John’s wicked smile is causing strange things to affect Sherlock’s transport. His eyes go wide as his transport turns to John as if he were the North Star. The only constancy in the night sky. Sherlock’s eyes lock onto John’s. Unspoken feelings make hearts beat, the drums of two souls merge into a heady, intoxicating music. 

John is instantly on alert. Sherlock can tell he’s detected a scent that is disturbing him.

From afar a dog starts barking savagely. 

“Sherlock. Give me your bags. Be prepared to run.”

“Wait, what? What is happening John?”

The barking is coming closer and closer. The few people on the street are turning to see what is happening. A huge dog is barreling down the street, his owner in hot pursuit. 

“That’s a hunter dog, Sherlock. A werewolf hunter dog. I’ve dealt them before. Head for the trees just outside the colonnade.” John hung the long straps of Sherlock’s bags around his neck. Forcefully, he pushes Sherlock toward the looming gate. 

The large dog, ears back, tail stiff comes to a stand still in front of John. Legs spread and teeth bared, the animal lunges at John. John takes one of the large leather sling bag and rams it into the mouth of the dog. Biting down hard; the dog attempts to shake the bag back and forth. Easily, John lifts the dog off the ground, punching the dog in the abdomen, knocking the air out of the beast. The dog lets go of the bag, slinking away. Whimpering with its tail between its legs.

“What the hell!” The dogs owner seems to be more concerned about his dog as he comes up to confront John. “Killer, quit whimpering get the hell back here.”

The dog refuses to come anywhere near John.

“How the hell did you lift my dog off the ground?”

The implication being that John’s short stature is indicative of a man of lesser strength. 

“In the instance of severe distress, people have been known to exhibit unusual strength. Remember Mrs. Kirkpatrick lifted one end of a broken carriage off her daughter who was stuck underneath it?” Sherlock comes to John’s defense. {They have to get out of here and fast.} Sherlock thinks.

A crowd is gathering around them. Dog owner is getting into John’s face. John’s dark, bright eyes bore into Dog man, who can’t really take the stare of a dominate alpha male, like John. Dog man back steps out of the situation, making the excuse that he’s going to find Lestrade. To have John arrested for injuring Dog man’s precious dog.

“Go ahead, you miscreant. Take you picayune dog and run away. Far away.” Sherlock yells after the receding Dog man who gathers his dog, places him on a lead and drags him away.

“Sherlock, we have to get going. More hunter dogs are in the vicinity. I didn’t know there were so many in this colonnade.”

“There usually aren’t that many here, John. Come.” Sherlock grabs John’s arm, forcing his way through the crowd. Using his extra long strides to distance themselves from this dangerous situation.

Moving fast. The colonnade gate is just ahead. They are almost there. John turns, crouching down low. “Run, Sherlock. Run.”

You can hear the dogs now. They are converging on the gate. There are five of them. Trailing their leads, they have broken away from their owners. 

John begins. Turning from human to werewolf is easier than the other way round. The transformation is a riveting spectacle. Everything and everyone stops. The hunter dogs see, hear and smell the emerging Werewolf. The over powering olfactory perception of alpha werewolf male has the dogs greatly confused. They have never been so close to so much strength. John growls from deep inside his body. Everyone in the immediate area can feel the vibrations to their very core.

**Advance at your own peril. My jaws are death.** Sherlock hears John’s barking tones translated in his brain.

The hunter dogs are back pedaling, pivoting, running for their very lives.

A shot rings out. Sherlock is there, so suddenly, even John is surprised. Shielding John’s large werewolf form with his own smaller body, Sherlock is struck by the second bullet.

John feels the bullet enter Sherlock’s body. Linked on the level of spirit, body and mind; John’s heart is lost forever in those blue, grey, green ethereal eyes that belong to his Nuada. Sherlock is John’s Nuada (always runs by my side). Jah_hanal bonds mind and soul to Sherlock Holmes. Then the world tips and Sherlock’s eyes close as his body goes limp. 

Raging, John bellows a primal call that shatters the air with its potency. The vibrations felt in the core of all the individuals in the area. Placing terror in the hearts of men. Again and again he screams.

**Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock**

Lifting the now inert body of Sherlock with the tenderness of a mother carrying her pup. John bolts for the gate.

No one dares follow. Everyone is in shock and terrified. Jenner, the inaccurate shooter, is white faced and trembling. He’s just shot Sherlock Holmes. Mycroft Holmes will be out for blood and you really didn’t want to be the man who injured his little brother. He is getting out of the Baker colonnade; right the fuck now.

(-_-)

Running. John is running towards the mounds of home. Faster. Faster. His sensitive mouth can feel the blood pumping though Sherlock’s veins. His tongue can taste his copper blood. John’s eyes weep. The tears blurring his vision, but he cannot shake his head to clear his sight. Sherlock is cradled in his mouth. Nothing matters but getting Sherlock to safety.

Molly jumps to his side. She has been waiting, hoping that all would go well. Knowing that life was never so kind.

She picks up her pace to match John’s stride. Then his left shoulder, the one that was pierced by a human bullet many years ago, starts to buckle under his extreme distress. Molly barks out.

**I will take him for a while.**

She reaches to take Sherlock into her mouth, immediately John moves Sherlock away from her.

His midnight blue eyes are ablaze with the fire of bonding. The fire that doesn’t burn. The fire that consumes two souls, making them into a new element. An element that never existed before. Something unbreakable, everlasting, eternal in the light and shining like a beacon in the darkness. 

**Jah. What have you done? Bonding with a human? Are you out of your furry mind?** Molly is walleyed, feeling the great stress that John is under. If Sherlock dies, John will die too. If not physically, then mentally, spiritually. **By the Moon, Jah. He will not die.** 

John only runs on and on, faster and farther. His mind and body can no longer answer to any call but that of his life mate. 

(-_-)

Coming at last to his dwelling, he enters in laying Sherlock on a soft floor mat of animal skins and fragrant herbs. Now he turns to Molly. She has studied the human anatomy. Already she has manifested into human form. Retrieving her medical kit she kneels next to Sherlock. Using a sharp knife she removes all the clothing on Sherlock’s upper torso. John is at her side. 

“What can I do?” John is breathing hard from the journey, but totally present to assist in any way he can.

Sherlock is pale. Too pale. Molly begins working to save his life. 

“He has lost a lot of blood, John. The wound can be mended. I will need your guidance to help me remove the bullet. I think you should send for the Spirit Walker.”

John goes to his doorway, howling for assistance. A yearling comes fast to his side. “Go the Spirit Walker. Tell her that she is needed here.

John looks to the waning moon. “Protect him for me, Eye of the night. May Hudders come to walk his spirit back to me.”


	4. Walking the Spirit Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock isn't sure. Hudder's tells a sad tale. Guess who's coming to dinner and Molly begins to turn the tables on 'Her'.

It is the perfect night. The sky is a breath-taking expanse of stars, painting an exquisite pattern of light and dark. Sherlock Holmes stands on a precipice. The beatific sky above. Deep, shadowed canyons carved by a mighty river below. He feels strangely at peace. This is not a feeling that he is familiar with. 

“Sherlock.” A woman’s voice strong yet vaguely familiar calls him.

He turns away from the edge. She is a small woman. Weathered by age, she moves with a subtle grace that speaks of a past strength that still permeates her.

“Do I know you?” He can swear he’s met her before. Just can’t quite place her.

She takes a long, deep breath. Her smile is full of peace and contentment. There is merriment in her blue eyes.

“I was called Hudson once long ago. Now the People call me Hudders. Everyone knows me, I walk the Spirit Path.”

Sherlock smirks. “Then I do not know you. My world is logic and cold reason.”

“Yet, we both know that there is something else going on here. You were standing on the edge of forever. You were looking at the bridge of time that is filled with the stars that unites all things. This is a sacred place, not one of logic or reason.”

“How did we get here?” Sherlock looks around again. He can see the beauty and wonder of his surroundings.

“I walked here. I do not know what path you took to get here. Maybe we can find that memory together?”

“You are mother figure, this is a dream. I am dreaming aren’t I?”

“I have no children, so all children are therefore mine.” She says enigmatically.

“Must you speak in riddles. I’m not fond of riddles.” Sherlock ignites exasperation in his eyes.

“Let me tell you a story.”

“Do I have a choice?” Sherlock sits on a convenient rock.

“I was orphaned at an early age. An elderly couple found me and adopted me. They were loving, nurturing.”

“Can we cut to the end of your tale. I see no real value in a biographical dissertation.”

Hudders gives him a warm smile. “They didn’t know that I was werewolf. That I had manifested early in life. They raised me as their daughter.”

At this Sherlock takes interest. “You were raised by humans? That must have been awkward when you finally knew your true nature?”

“It was worst than that. My adopted family were killed by werewolves, when I was a youth.”

At this Sherlock feels sadness. Why does he feel sadness? “Did they know you were werewolf?”

“The werewolves thought that I was being held against my will. A prisoner.” 

“That must have been very difficult for everyone concerned?”

“It makes for an interesting story. A true one. I’ve lived the rest of my life among my People. Hoping to find a certain person. A person who can bridge the disparity between two peoples who must become one.”

“Excuse me. Are you saying that werewolves and humans are related? There have been some crazy ideas surrounding evolution.” Sherlock laughs then. There is little humor in his laughter. 

“All that exists, is interconnected. You above all others should know that.”

“How would I know that?” Sherlock looks lost. “There is something that I’ve forgot isn’t there? Something important? I have to remember. I need to remember.”

“You are the turning of the tide, Sherlock. The moon can turn an ocean. What strength does that imply? The Eye of Night looks upon us both.” 

Sherlock looks up to the silver moon. “The Eye of night, the moon. So your people worship the moon?” He asks incredulously.

“We care for all. See this small rock that I hang from my necklace. It is a part of the everything. We are related to this rock as well as the canyon below and the stars above.”

“Why am I here in this sacred place? I remember little. Images and thoughts are jumbled in my head.” Sherlock rakes his long, elegant fingers through his riotous hair. Then he looks at that hand. There is an imprint of werewolf teeth on his skin.

“I became a part of Oddra’s family.” He exclaims. “She named her eldest daughter after me and after this bite. I could understand wolf language. When JOHN spoke to me. JOHN, Hudders. I forgot John.”

“Memory returns.” She lays her hand upon his arm. “How did you come to this place, Sherlock?”

Sherlock shutters with the thought. “I was protecting John. Something wonderful and terrible happened at the same time. I…was taken away from him.” Sherlock is near tears, his cold facade, now melting away with the flood of memory that drowns him in feelings.

“Hudders, I came here to leave the world. I can’t leave John. We are more than we were. We are.” He can not find the words to describe what John has become to him. 

“Yes, Sherlock. This was not your path. It was thrust upon you by the bullet that pierced you flesh.”

“I must go back, Hudders! Please help me go back.”

“You need only open you eyes to see him. There is no difficulty in finding your John, my dear.”

(-_-)

Sherlock opens his eyes. John sits by his side. Eyes bright with unshed tears. John blinks rapidly in relief and joy. 

“Sherlock. I thought I’d lost you.” John brings Sherlock’s hand to his lips as he tenderly kisses his beloved. 

Hudders appears behind John. Her smile is radiant. “John, you have chosen a man with suchness.”

John trembles with her praise. “Hudders, I can’t thank you enough for walking the spirit path. Bringing Sherlock back to me.” John is overcome with happiness. Giving the older woman a hug. She returns it with her own formidable strength. 

“He was not going to leave you. The love between you is strong and true. I have pups to teach and hearts to mend. Come see me when you can my dears.”

Sherlock touches her hand before she leaves. His eyes are fierce with life that makes their grey/green/blue color spark. 

(-_-)

“I’ve been told that he came into the colonnade with a werewolf. That he was shot trying to protect this werewolf. That this werewolf then picked him up and carried him off?” Mycroft is beyond the point of boiling rage. 

“That is what I’ve ascertained as well. We’re still trying to find the man who shot Sherlock.”

“Don’t waste your time. He has been dealt with. What are you doing to retrieve my brother?”

“Fortunately, there are a large number of hunter dogs in the colonnade right now. We have enlisted them to seek the werewolves. We were hoping that these dogs would lead us to where he is being kept. But.”

“But what? Out with it man. I want my brother back in the colonnade now!” Mycroft is definitely not in the mood for listening to long excuses.

“The dogs went out on leads, they followed the trail and came right back to the colonnade. Some how the werewolves have masked their trail. The search wasn’t successful.”

Mycroft ran his hand down his face as he huffs a deep breath. Lestrade is subdued. Afraid to cause Mycroft any further distress.

“Send the hunter dogs out again. I want results, not excuses.” Mycroft turns on his heel and walks sharply out of Lestrade’s office.

(-_-)

John is sitting on the soft pelts in his den. Sherlock is sleeping, cradled in John’s arms. Molly enters the room, giving a nod. Carefully, John places his mate on the pelts. Standing, he knows that Sherlock is safe here, yet he still doesn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone.

“What transpires?” John asks in a whisper as he enters the smaller room that Molly stands in.

“Word comes from the Westerns.” 

John visibly tenses. “I suppose she is leading the current delegation?” 

“She does have many connections within the government. What do you want to do?” Molly is being as non-judgmental as she can. 

“Let us have a council meeting within the high evening hours. Make sure all our elders are present.”

“You know she will want to speak to you personally.” Molly is loath to remind John of ‘her’ predilection for being involved with alpha males and females.

“There will be no dalliances with ‘The Woman’. I have a bond mate who will require my time and attention. She will have to be content in attempting to woo and win other alphas in the group.”

“We do owe the Westerns for the medicines and herbs that their people provide us with.” Molly knows that these same medicines had helped save Sherlock’s life.

“Our allegiances, plus the exchange of goods and services must continue. This is a good stepping stone to developing interactions with the humans of the colonnades as well.” John has worked hard to try to bring peace and prosperity to his people. The humans, though weak, are still part of the suchness of the world.

“You have preformed welcomed changes to bring disparate cultures together. It is no wonder that the People love you and the Westerns honor you.” Molly is proud to be a part of the Waterston menage. John has done what no other leader has. He has brought the end to many of the conflicts that exist between man and werewolf.

“There is still so much to do.” John turns and looks to his sleeping mate. “Sherlock will be the one who transforms all. I was so afraid that I had lost him.”

“Go back to him now. I will have council chambers opened and prepare for our guests.”

“Thank you, Molly. I am dependent upon your many skills and adaptability.”

Molly watches as John rejoins Sherlock. She goes to bring the council together and determine if any of the menage Alphas are going to be susceptible to ‘The Woman’s wiles. “She is a menace to anything that breathes.” 

Then she thanks the stars that she isn’t alpha. ‘The Woman’ as she is called is a master manipulator among her own kind, but like most manipulator’s she has her weak point. Molly is pretty sure she has finally found that point.

“Come forward, Irene. I’ll be here ready to thwart your every slimy move.”


	5. Th Rattler shakes out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene Rattler arrives. Molly and Hudders make a plan. Sherlock and John are nearly separated. Everything goes south and I'm not talking about a direction.

Sherlock is attempting to stand from his sitting position on the fur pelts.

John enters the room: sees Sherlock. “Whoa, whoa, wait. What do you think you are doing?”

“I was going to get up and go looking for you.” Sherlock’s rather glad that he won’t have to do either of those now.

John takes a breath to calm his careening mind. “I have to contend with the arrival of a contingency from the Westerns, your colonnade people are scouring the lands looking for you; I don’t need to go worrying about you doing something stupid like getting up. I don’t know if you realize this, but you were shot, nearly died and are not yet fully recovered. You are aware of these facts, right?”

Sherlock gives a tiny smile that is so adorable that John immediately goes to him; sits and gently embraces his Nuada. “You have captured my heart so thoroughly there is barely enough left for me to function with.” 

Sherlock leans into his embrace. “I need to use the loo as well.” 

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” John stands, leaning down he takes most of Sherlock’s weight as he lifts him to his feet. “That, I can do.”

(-_-)

Irene Rattler looks at the dwelling that has been provided to her by the People. One of the things that the Westerns have traded to the People is furniture. So she has tables and chairs. A bed and wash basin. Not nearly as primitive as her first visit.

Molly steps to the opening; tapping with her foot on the group to announce herself.

“Ah, Molly, dear. So good to see you again. I’ve heard that Jah has found a Nuada. How wonderful for him. I will, of course, have to congratulate him and meet his Nuada as soon as possible.”

“Good to see you too, Irene. I’m afraid that, Sherlock, Jah’s Nurada was recently injured. He is still convalescing. While I’m sure Jah can spare you some time. I don’t think Sherlock will have the strength just yet.”

Irene smiles. It brightens her face, flashing her beauty, but by no means is connected to humor. “I see. Well, that is a shame, but we do what we can don’t we? Tell Jah I’m available for tea. I’ve even brought his favorite biscuits.”

(-_-)

Sherlock is finally rid of nurturing, affectionate, caring, smothering, John. It is probably only for a short time. A Nuada has to take what he can get Sherlock reminds himself. He’s never been so deeply mired in love: well ever. His life has always been work, more work and even more work. Experimenting. Observing. Keeping out of the clutches of his big brother. Now all he can think about is John. All he can see is John. It’s a tad unnerving. 

“Oh, hello there.” A female voice reverberates through the dwelling. “My name is Irene Rattler.”

Sherlock sits up from his fur pelts and looks at the acutely symmetric female who stands at the entrance. She enters without permission, standing quite close.

“John isn’t here right now, but you knew that. You’re here to see what kind of person I am. Whether you can use me to your advantage.”

Irene sits next to Sherlock. “Oh, you are good aren’t you.”

“Females are really not my field of interest.”

“Men aren’t mine, but look at us both. Jah, I hear you call him John, is quite the catch isn’t he? Rumor has it that his star is going to raise high.”

“I will not bend to your will. So you may as well look elsewhere for your fun and games.”

“You make me sound like a terrible person.” Irene gives a poutty smile as she glides her hand over Sherlock’s torso. Leaning over him in a salacious way.

“Irene, I’d ask you to unhand my Nuada.” John enters his dwelling and yanks Irene away from Sherlock. “Your presence is not welcomed here. Sherlock is in need of rest, not harassment.”

“Apologies, John. I meant no harm. I can see that he means everything to you.”

John growls low, the reverberations can be felt at core of everyone in the room. 

“I can see that you need some alone time. I’ll depart, hoping to visit you again some other time.” Irene is unhappy with her interrupted interview. Her mood darkens as she stalks back to her room. 

“Where is she from?”

“She is from the Westerns. She came seeking trade. The Westerns were the first to interact with us without bloodshed. Though her ways can be questionable. She is very well connected in her society. So she is tolerated.”

“She is trouble. You don’t have to be observant to get that. She is seeking to gain illicit knowledge to leverage things in any way she can.”

“She may mingle with the unattached males and females here, but bonded mates pair for life in our culture. There is very little political intrigue here for her to use.”

“So I’m stuck with you for the rest of my life?” Sherlock’s face is incredulous.

“You, my dear, are bonded to the best hunter, wisest Were and the handsomest man in the entirety of coastal Werewolf menages.

“That’s totally okay then.” 

(-_-)

Molly and Hudders are having a discussion in Hudders comfortable dwelling.

“We need to make sure she doesn’t do anything to jeopardize our menage, or John and Sherlock.”

“Yes, dear. I’m aware of what a bitch she is.” Hudders pours Molly another cup of tea. 

“So what do you think of my idea?” 

“I agree. We should set something up soon.”

Molly loves Hudders to pieces. “Then you’ll do it?”

“Why, of course, my dear. It will be so much fun.”

(-_-)

“John, I’m really okay.”

“Just lay there a little while longer. I can actually determine if there are any other damages or injuries that Molly needs to attend to.”

John is doing a sniff search of Sherlock’s body. It might have felt less weird if John had been in werewolf mode. He is human. As he breathes deeply over and around Sherlock’s body; Sherlock’s blood pressure raises and his heart beats strongly. 

“What is that about?” John places his palm over Sherlock’s heart. Then John notices that there is something else coming up besides Sherlock’s heart rate.

“You are not to think of that right now. Molly says it will be a month before we can consider any kind of ‘exertions’.”

“Sorry, my ‘exertion’ has a mind of its own.”

They both giggle, then laugh. John lays down next to Sherlock. Pulling the taller man into his embrace.

“This will have to do for a little while.” 

Sherlock relaxes into John’s warmth.

John suddenly sits up. On full alert.

“What’s happening?” 

“There’s a danger signal sounding.”

“I don’t hear anything.” Sherlock sits up too. Straining to hear what John does.

“Your ears can’t hear all the sounds of Werewolf ears. The high and low end sounds are used to communicate when stealth is imperative. We can also hear further away than humans can.

“What are the sounds telling you?”

“That the menage is in danger. That the colonnade people are coming. Adults are to move into the forests. Mothers with pups, elders and the ill are to shelter in their dwellings. 

“What are we going to do?”

“You are going to do nothing. I want you to stay here, safe and sound. I’ll have to go out and make sure the People are okay.”

Frustrated, wobbling, Sherlock stands up. “I can still be of use, even in my recovery.” As he looks to see where John is. Seeing the huge stone that covers the entrance move into place. Sherlock walks to the stone and attempts to move it. It is beyond his strength. 

“John! John, you can’t do this to me.” He pummels the stone but there is no use. It is wasted energy. So Sherlock turns his attention to the dwelling. Can he escape?

(-_-)

The hunters are prepared, guns at the ready, holding tight to the leads that restrain their lunging dogs. The dogs are picking up multiple scents. Yet they seem confused. This site had always been confounding as many times it had caused the dogs to perk up, only to lose their way again.

“This isn’t working. The dogs aren’t getting anywhere.” The lead hunter shouts.

Mounted on horses Lestrade and his men follow the hunters. He is reluctantly leading the search party. He’s hoping that Sherlock is okay. John appeared to be very concerned about Sherlock’s welfare. Sherlock was shot trying to save John/werewolf from the colonnade’s bullets. What the hell was going on? Are John and Sherlock friends? How the hell did that happen? 

A magnificent woman comes walking up to the horsemen and hunters. She seems so out of place here in this wilderness. Dressed in rich colored and textured robes. Her demeanor is one of privilege and power.

Walking up to Lestrade, she acknowledges him as the leader. 

“I’m Miss Irene Rattler and you are?”

“Captain Lestrade from the Baker colonnade. We are searching for one of our citizens; Sherlock Holmes. We believe he was taken by a shifting Werewolf called John. May I ask what you are doing here in the wilderness Miss Rattler?”

“Well, I was actually visiting...” 

“STOP!” Sherlock, moving slowly, comings from around a grassy mound. “Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” 

“Sherlock! Are you okay?” Lestrade dismounts and goes to help support Sherlock who looks pale. 

“I’ll be fine.” Sherlock accepts Lestrade’s aid. “Answer me Miss Rattler!” Sherlock addresses Irene directly. Animosity in his tone.

Irene gives a wicked smile. “I was just going to tell Captain Lestrade that I was here visiting my friend, Mrs. Hudson. She lives over there.” Rattler indicates a southern direction.

“Really.” Sherlock is indignant.

“Let’s get you back to the Colonnade. You don’t look too good to me. Do you think you can ride my horse?”

“He isn’t going anywhere without me!” John’s voice is savage with possession as he walks to where the group is standing. The hunter dogs go wild, straining on their leads as all guns are trained on John.

“John, NO.” Sherlock breaks from Lestrade’s grip to go to John.

Lestrade follows Sherlock fast. Removing a pair of hand cuffs from his vest pocket. “John, you are under arrest.”

“Is it against the law to be a werewolf.” John asks softly of Lestrade.

“If I don’t arrest you, the mob behind me will kill you. I’m trying to defuse this situation, John. Please understand. It isn’t my first choice of options.”

Sherlock stands close. Sherlock glares at the mob, daring any to do something stupid.

“You can not take him to the colonnade, Lestrade. He is at high risk of being murdered by the idiots there. I will not go with you. Leave us here, please.” 

Lestrade has never heard Sherlock be polite. It stuns him.

“If I don’t exert authority this will turn into a mob going into a killing frenzy. John will die right here, right now. If you have an alternative that will end all of this peacefully. Enlighten me.”

Sherlock clings to John. His energy failing, he begins to collapse. Easily John lifts Sherlock.

“I will go with you peacefully.” John is resolute.

“It’s miles to get to the colonnade. Do you want to put him on my horse?”

“I can walk faster than you horse can. I will carry him.” The determination in John’s voice leaves little space for discussion.

“Back to the colonnade.” Lestrade mounts his nervous horse. The hunter dogs are still going crazy. He advises the hunters with their dogs to take a different route. Looking around there is no sign of Miss Rattler. He assigns one of his men to look for her.

“God, help us all.” Lestrade turns his group to keep up with John as he walks at a double-quick pace back to the colonnade.


	6. Relatable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captured, John and Sherlock are at risk or are they? Hudders is on the case. Molly is steamed. Irene is put in her place and it all turns and twists so much that you could get whiplash. Strap in, it gets wild and woolly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my many passionate readers who have given me words of encouragement and affection. Hugs, kisses and the honey of millions of bees on your toast. Star

Sherlock wakes in the meager comforts of a jail cell in the colonnade.

“You climbed out of the air vent? You with your recently injured self, climbed out of the air vent of our dwelling?

Sherlock can’t help be feel proud at John’s use of the term ‘our’ in reference to the dwelling. “Yes, John. I was not going to be left behind, like some fragile human being.”

“No, you are not are you.”

“What is Lestrade’s plan going forward?”

“Lestrade is fighting the whole of the colonnade. Everyone and his hunter dog wants John dead. Lestrade is trying to prevent a colonnade meltdown.”

Both men turn at Lestrade’s comment.

“It is only a matter of time before the mob takes control and kills John. What are you going to do?” Sherlock stands from the cot he is laying on, moves to the bars that separate him from Lestrade. He places his hand on the door and it swings open. Sherlock is only mildly surprised.

“I gave my word that I would not leave this cell.” John confirms.

“Luckily, the colonnades security building is as sturdy as the rest of the place.” Lestrade confirms.

“You can’t keep John incarcerated, he’s done nothing wrong.”

“I know Sherlock, but I’ve no idea what to do next. Maybe that massive brain of yours has some good ideas.” Lestrade is flummoxed.

“What was Irene doing back there? She never does anything without purpose.” John looks very perturbed.

“I thought she was going to betray you. What did she have to say after I passed out?”

“She disappeared. Though she said she was visiting Mrs. Hudson. Why were you and John there? Does Mrs. Hudson have a really big house? Then after you passed out, she disappeared. I sent a man looking for her, she was nowhere to be found.”

“We have attempted to send emissaries to the colonnades and each time they were killed.” John began his historical comment.

“Yeah, our people fear anything that’s different. Maybe you and Sherlock can turn that around.”

“The human colonnades are coming further and further into the wilderness. Close to our permanent sites in this area. We shelter our elderly and sick in these dwellings. We hide our dwellings with scent markers that confound your dogs. Yet, sooner or later we must come to some understanding with humans. My people will not want to move these dwellings that have existed for generation upon generation. We grow tired of maintaining the subterfuge of not being here.”

Both Lestrade and John turn to look at Sherlock.

“No pressure then.” Sherlock runs his long eloquent hand through his face. “What are people who saw John transform at the front gate saying?”

“They were flabbergasted. Many calling it evil, dark magic.” Lestrade’s worried expression says more than his words.

Sherlock goes someplace. His body is still there, but you can literally see that his mind is contemplating another place all together. 

“John, what do your people say about how some Weres can ‘manifest’ into human form. You said that not everyone can do it. Why is that?”

John smiles. Sherlock returns his warm, wonderful smile.

“The People believe that we are directly related to humans. That somewhere in the distant past we moved away from each other and that the spirit that manifests werewolf went away from humans. That the spirit that helps some of the People to manifest humanness is still present, but weaker than it once was.”

Sherlock and Lestrade are gobsmacked.

(-_-)

Anderson is really drunk. Which means he is a mouse with more mouth then sense. “We have to do something! We can’t just sit here with that thing in our colonnade. We have to act. Killing Weres is what we do, isn’t it?”

Shouting their agreement the crowd gathers around him. They are in the colonnade’s largest pub which serves as a make-shift secondary town hall for the heavy drinking crowd.

Anderson is bolstered by the crowd agreeing with his rantings. “We have to go over to Captain Lestrade and demand he hand over that baby killing Were. We have to do this. Together we can force him to do our will. We are the people aren’t we?”

The frothing, half drunk crowd needs no facts or even truths to hang their hats on. They are all in for the death of the jailed werewolf.

(-_-)

Molly is seething. “You, you did what?”

“I was trying to defuse the situation. You know, smile a little, walk seductively around. Men are so easily diverted.” 

“You caused John and Sherlock to be taken away. John is now a prisoner of the colonnade. A place where humans only want to kill werewolves. Is that what you wanted? John to be killed, to break Sherlock’s heart. They are bonded now. The strongest bond I’ve ever seen and you’ve put all that in jeopardy.”

Irene looks mildly distraught. “How was I to know that Sherlock and John would come out. I never thought.”

“Yes, you did. You were hoping to manipulate events. It’s what you do.” Molly is fuming and ready to smack Irene extremely hard.

“Enough. There is work to be done and we must begin it. Molly get out our carriage. Irene you are to prepare for their coming. Now!” 

Irene, clearly taken down a notch, hurries to her dwelling.

Molly takes Mrs. Hudson hands in hers. “I trust that you will find a way to save us all.”

(-_-)

Both Lestrade and Sherlock are sitting on the cot facing John.

“Okay, I’m really not there yet.” Lestrade leans back on the cot with his arms and shakes his head.

John comes over to Sherlock and takes the wolf amulet from around his neck. Placing it to his mouth he blows with a series of breaths. 

“It’s a whistle. A whistle that you can use to communicate with your people!” Sherlock gets it immediately.

“A werewolf whistle? Why can’t I hear it?” Lestrade is engaged again.

“Because it makes sounds at a level that we can’t hear.” Sherlock takes the wolf’s head whistle, examining it intensely.

“Did you just signal to the pack?” 

John nods in the affirmative.

“You’ve had a plan from the start. You were using Irene just as she thought that she was manipulating you.”

Sherlock stands, taking hands full of John’s shirt and pulls him into an energetic kiss. “You are the wisest Were there is as well as the most handsome.”

Lestrade can’t help but smile. Sherlock has never shown attachment to anyone. This is a first and his gut feeling is it’s a good one.

“It is about time, Sherlock. John, I know your intentions are honorable and I congratulate you both.” Lestrade looks from Sherlock to John and can see an ethereal halo around them that is clearly visible to the naked eye. It is a thing of beauty that makes you want to reach out and touch it. Yet Lestrade knows better than to attempt that.

“We still have a serious problem, gentlemen. What are we going to do? I’m a curious bastard.”

They all begin to laugh in a giddy, snorty way that encourages them to laugh even harder and with even less control. 

Sherlock gathers himself first. “Is there any way we can bring this information to the humans without getting stoned to death or shot?”

“That would be the hard part.” John looks to Lestrade. “How difficult would it be to have a council meeting? Have the whole colonnade attend?”

One of Lestrade’s men comes up to the cell they are in.

“Captain, Looks like trouble is headed this way.”

(-_-)

A self aggrandizing Anderson is leading the charge. The main group is inebriated but the peripheral folks are worked up when they learned a werewolf was in the colonnade jail.

Lestrade, John and Sherlock are looking out from a second floor window at the crowd as it circles around the outer edges of the colonnades security building.

“Don’t think we have to worry about a council meeting.” Lestrade looks fatigued by not defeated.

John is listening to those unheard sounds from the silent Were whistle.

“What’s happening outside?” 

“Now is the time.” John takes Sherlock’s hand, leading him down to the front door.

“Wait, John, you don’t want to go out there.”

Sherlock turns to Lestrade. “Trust him, Greg. I do.”

Startled by the use of his given name, Greg relents, following the couple out.

(-_-)

The crowd roars as Sherlock and John walk out. Yet not one person surges forward to any action.

John gives a full throated howl that Sherlock is sure a signal for his people outside the colonnade. Stillness prevails as the crowd is not sure what is to come.

(-_-) 

“My name is John. I am a Werewolf. I speak for my people. I want to talk of peace and co-existence with the people of the Baker colonnade.” 

Rumbling dissent travels through the assemblage.

“Your kind eat our herd animals.” Someone shouts and there is an instant yell of assent.

“Many lone werewolves travel this land. They have no allegiance to my word and kill indiscriminately. My people propose that we partner with your farmers. That one of my menage accompany each herd, providing continuous protection from the lone wolves. If a loner seeks to kill you herd animals, our protector were will signal for others to come and defend you and your herd.”

“Liar. Weres aren’t to be trusted.” Comes a shout above the noise of the humans.

The rattle of a horse drawn carriage comes from the gate, then one by one werewolves enter the colonnade behind the carriage.

“The look-outs! The look-outs are gone!” A woman cries out. All eyes turn to the look-out path that circumvents the high walls that surround the colonnade. People are stunned into immobility. 

Finally, someone recognizes the elderly woman driving the carriage. “The Mother comes. Look the Mother rides with the Weres!”

John and Sherlock can see Hudders with Molly and Irene riding along with her. “Hudders is The Mother?” Sherlock has heard of the healer, herbalist and bringer of babies into this world, but he has never met her.

The werewolves keep coming into the colonnade, until there is barely enough room to swing a cat. They sit down calmly in a circle that surrounds the humans. From somewhere a shot rings out and penetrates the ground at John’s feet.

“Stop.” Hudders command voice is not to be denied. She stands and flings her hands out high into the air. “There will be no violence tonight. I will bring the stars down to fall upon any who raises a hand in anger.” 

The quiet is intense. Hudders descends from her carriage. “Anderson, you were a difficult delivery. Still remain so.” The humans are moved to smile or giggle at her insult.

“I have touched nearly every life here in one way or another. Brought many of you into the world or helped your loved ones find peace in the great beyond. You know me. I am the Mother One. None will doubt my word or my intentions. I speak to let you know that John is a man and Were of his word. He speaks from a good heart. Listen to him.”

“Man and Were are related. We are all related. Something divided us long ago. Whether it was purpose, or geography, no one can remember. It is buried in our history. I know that we need to mend the divide. I want to begin that process. I think that working together we can make this land a paradise. A world our children will be happy to inherit.”

John stands ready to face what will come. Turning he reaches out to his Nuada. Touching Sherlock’s beautiful face. The halo that Greg had been aware of earlier becomes surreal. A sudden, bright brilliance that engulfs Sherlock and John. 

Sherlock screams, not in pain, but in fear. For he knows not what is happening.

There before everyone, Sherlock Holmes manifests into a large black Werewolf.


	7. The King and his brindle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock settles into his Werewolf persona. There is a brindle in the background. Finally, the Westerns come and all unite to save a Were soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in getting this chapter to you. RL hasn't been good to me. >:o)

Standing in the shattered remnants of his clothing, Sherlock dwarfs John in his large black Werewolf manifestation. His animal eyes are wide with panic. As John seeks to come forward to comfort him, Sherlock growls low, baring sharp teeth.

Everyone is frozen in time. All the werewolves standing at attention: their leader in clear danger. The situation completely unpredictable.

The humans begin murmuring to themselves. Sherlock jumps, head swinging back and forth. Distraught. 

“Quiet!” Hudders barks. At that command, silence overcomes the many beating hearts within the colonnade.

“Sherlock, you are okay. This manifestation usually happens from Were to human. This is a little beyond normal. Our bonding must have triggered your dormant Were spirit. It will feel strange to begin with. Calm yourself. Remember the Spirit Walk. There at the Edge of Forever, you felt the peace of the universes. The stars pulsed through your veins. Breathe, expand you lungs, fill you new/old body with life.”

Sherlock huffs a strong breath. His long elegant nose taking in the chaos of scents that assault his new, more sensitive olfactory system. All his senses, sight, sound, smell; everything is magnified, enhanced. Suddenly, his need to observe, catalog, and absorb the new data kicks in. He comes forward taking massive amounts of information about John, just from the olfactory perception he is picking up.

John is home, comfort, love and unbelievable sex. John is all he will ever need in this world. Sherlock relaxes into his new reality. He is Werewolf. He can manifest as human. John was right; humans and werewolves come from a common ancestor. 

**Your words are true.** Sherlock speaks werewolf.

John turns to the crowd. “Here before you, my friends, the truth. ‘Human’ Sherlock has manifested into Werewolf. There can be no better proof that we are brothers and sisters.”

The humans and Werewolves present erupt into conversation. The government officials of the colonnade come forward. They are more than willing to begin, something. The high number of Werewolves present inside the colonnade has everyone prepared to do just about anything to make peace.

Leaving his lieutenants, lead by Molly and Hudders, to begin the hard work of coming to terms with the humans. A coalition will be formed. Cooperation will happen. There can be no other outcome. 

(-_-)

**How do I become human again?** The black Werewolf is large, but so slender and delicately muscled that he looks nothing at all like his werewolf brethren. He walks next to the grey haired human, almost prancing to keep his high energy levels and longer gait restricted. 

“Don’t you want to explore this new aspect of your being? Does being a Werewolf not tantalize and excite you?”

**I’m not sure what I feel.**

“Maybe going hunting? A little food to digest?”

Sherlock stops short. **I’m not sure that is a great idea.**

“We could always go back to the massive and exhaustive cross communication that is happening at the colonnade?”

**That’s even less appetizing.**

John smiles, then laughs. “Maybe a race in the forest.” He removes his clothing, folding the pieces of material, stashing them in a sling bag that he’d carried; hanging the sling bag in a near by tree. Manifesting into the grey wolf that he can become; slightly smaller that the black werewolf, yet muscular and vital. He nips the large ear of the black and then jumps high into the air. Managing a pirouette mid-air. 

Off he runs, his shorter stride eating up the distance between his Nuada and himself. Sherlock barks anxiously. Jumping after his John; running is breath-less, exhilarating and freeing. Faster and faster they move into the forest.

At the edge of that forest, two Weres remain hidden up wind from the couple that romps away from them.

**So Jah, is happiness now. The humans are mollified. The Westerns are engaged. How goes our plan?** The small black Were tilts his head at an odd angle.

**By order of you, my King, Jah’s leadership will be coming to a tragic end soon enough.**

Moriarty dips his head in acknowledgment of his second in command. The brindle black/grey Werewolf at his side. **Then let the games begin.**

(-_-)

Molly and Hudders have been hours at the negotiating tables. 

“I am so glad that women are the better negotiators than mere men. I think, my dear, that we should indulge ourselves in a bit of extravagance.”

Molly understands completely and goes to a cabinet bringing forth a small jar. Hudders has made tea. Bringing the tea tray to their table.

Opening the lid of the jar, she dips a small spoon into the golden honey. They sweeten their tea with the rare honey from bees that gather their nectar from flowers that only grow at the top of the Westerns mountains. It is a small indulgence at then end of great work.

(-_-)

They are walking sedately now. They had terrorized small animals, splashed through raucous streams and tumbled together on the forest floor. Now they traveled back to the colonnade, Sherlock nuzzled John’s head repeatedly. John, finally, turned, licking the gangly black wolf across his face.

**So being a Were – not so very bad?**

**With you all things are good.**

Sherlock stopped short. He felt strange again. This time he was changing from Were to human. Naked, he trembled at the sudden loss of fur.

“I hope you have a set of clothes for me in that sling bag of yours?”

**Think of fur to cover your needs. Or think of being Were again.** 

John, easily, turns to his human form with grey fur still covering much of his body.

Sherlock closes his eyes to concentrate. It is then that it happened. John howls in surprise as a dart hits him in his left shoulder. Immediately he yanks the offending item out, then begins to lose consciousness. 

Attempting to reach John before he falls, Sherlock leaps toward. Five sable Weres attack him, pinning him to the ground. Their brindle leader merely watches intently. He had been in human form when he shot the dart at John.

“John, John! Let go of him. I will destroy your miserable hides!”

**What do we do with this ‘thing’.** One sable queries the leader.

The brindle comes forward. **It’s not worth bothering with.** The brindle lifts John in his mouth. Turns and strides away. The sables continue standing on the struggling human who is still screaming.

The smallest sable swats the human across the head. Then wipes the blood from his paw. The sables then follow their leader back to their hidden den.

(-_-)

Back at the colonnade, the distinguished representatives of the Westerns finally make their appearance at the gate. Irene is there to greet them and lead them into main hall of the governmental building.

Lestrade is present. Watching the entry of the Westerns. He is taken aback. There are wagons filled with females. There are horses in long lines strutting with military precision. All mounted by woman.

“Where are the men folk?” 

Irene turns to him and smiles wickedly. “The Westerns have no men. Need no men.”

Lestrade looks even more surprised. “Well, I’ll be. That’s going to be a shock to many people here.”

“They seem to be getting a lot of shocks today. Everyone appears to be handling it well enough.”

The incoming troops are interrupted by a gangly black Were that comes barreling in full speed. Looking around he is barking and howling causing great excitement among the gathered Werewolves.

Finally, spotting Lestrade, he makes a bee line for the Captain of the guards. A trail of Weres and now some of the Westerns are following the black Were.

Changing to this human form, black fur covers most of Sherlock’s body. “Greg.” He’s nearly out of breath as many of the Weres surround him and calls go out to the whole of the colonnade. “They have taken John. You must gather together everyone that can be spared. We must rescue him.”

Molly and Hudders show up to the commotion. “Who took him, Sherlock?” Molly is on high alert.

“It was a brindle Were. He was mottled black and grey. He had five sables with him.” 

“Moran.” Hudders breathes. “It could only be Moran. There are few brindle’s in this land. We must travel light and fast.”

The lead horse woman comes forth. “If Jah is in trouble, the Westerns are here for him. Lead and we will follow!”

Before another word can be said, Molly manifests as her Werewolf self. Her soft brown fur is bristled with anger. **Show us were he was taken, Sherlock.**

“Go ahead dear, I’ll make sure that the humans can follow you.” Hudders lovingly caresses Sherlock’s cheek.

Sherlock manifests into his Were self, pushing his way back toward the main gate.

**To save Jah.” Molly cries out. She wheels round to follow Sherlock. All the Weres in the immediate vicinity move with her.

The leader of the horse women stands in her stirrups, lifting her banner. The mountains of the Westerns rampant across its face. “To free the leader of the Were’s, freedom for Jah!” She wheels her horse to the main gate. Her people maneuver their way to the gate. The quiet is sudden and deafening.

“Captain Lestrade, I think that humans should join this urgent search and rescue.” 

“Yes, ma’am. To hear is to obey.” Lestrade calls to his lieutenants.

“Have a horse brought up for me as well.” Hudders states. “I will be accompanying you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

(-_-)

Moran spits John out, throwing him against the cave wall. 

Abruptly, John finds himself ensconced in a cave with Moran and Moriarty. He begins rubbing his sore shoulder. 

“Moriarty, I’ve wondered what rock you were hiding under?”


	8. Two Paths, love or chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BAMF John. Nuff said!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is ending for a bit. But not to worry. The further adventures of Werewolf Sherlock and John will continue soonest.

“As always, your attempt at humor falls very short. You do see that you are my prisoner? That I am totally in control here?” Moriarty is in his human form. His black eyes bite, his smile tilting and swerving with his head movements. 

“I see that you’ve caught me unawares, separated me from my Nurada. That you think your will is stronger than mine. You think if you keep me in human form that you can break me, kill me?”

“So you’ve figured out that the dart had a solution. It will keep you from manifesting. We’re not sure how long it will last. Yet I think it will be long enough.”

Moran took human form. He was a large man. Broad of shoulder, with a musculature that spoke of inherent strength. “Shall I kill him?” 

“I have to think on this, my dear. To kill him outright might be advantageous at the moment. Yet, his death, will make him a martyr. His people honor and love him still. Though he is nowhere near as intelligent nor as ferocious as myself. I should lead the Waterston menage. I should rule over the humans and the Westerns. I should be king.”

“Our menage is a meritocracy. I do not rule. I lead, by example and design. Your infantile desire to possess power will be your downfall, Moriarty.”

“Maybe, you should bloody and bow our little friend, my dear.” Moriarty smiles, a wickedly divisive encounter of his twisted lips.

(-_-)

Sherlock brought his entourage to the place where John had been taken. Trackers pick up the scent immediately, howling their encouragement. 

Molly took partial human form to speak to the Westerns. “Trackers have the scent. Let us move as one to rescue Jah.”

Werewolves, Westerns run at double speed toward their common goal.

Sherlock is trembling. Molly at his side. They have stayed back from the main group.

**Have you eaten at all since you manifested?**

Sherlock looks into her empathetic brown eyes. Shaking his head in the negative. He looks miserable and hungry.

Molly drops her head to her chest, exhaling a deep breath.

Sherlock attempts to join the receding group. 

**No, you have to eat Sherlock.**

She looks about, not far away she spies a stream. **Come with me.**

Quickly, with an expertise that Sherlock hadn’t thought possible, Molly paws out amounts of aquatic life that wriggles about on the land. Stepping onto the small fishes, insect larvae and invertebrates, she indicates that Sherlock should suck up this life giving slurry. 

(-_-)

Moran advances. The smirk on his face indicates he knows how this outcome will play out. He doesn’t even bother to manifest as Werewolf. So certain is he that he can best John in his human form.

John’s eyes flash with a diamond hard blueness. “I warn you Moran. You will regret any action you take.”

Moran sniffs. A little grin ghosts across his features.

Lunging, he attempts to grab John. John uses Moran’s own forward motion to yank him hard as he steps aside. The man’s own weight catapulting him into the cave wall. The hard hit smashes Moran’s face, breaking his nose and shattering his right temple. 

Moriarty looks on. His cold eyes now even colder. He growls, calling his lesser henchmen to come to his aid.

“Do you really want to continue this? You are not really the ‘get your hands dirty’ kind of guy, Moriarty. I’ve seen your kind come and go. Letting your lieutenants do the heavy lifting. Your ability to rule dependent upon your web of cohorts working for you. The Weres of my menage will never bow to your demands. If you manage to kill me, my Nurada will seek your blood. There is no win for you here.”

John can see the mind behind Moriarty’s eyes whirling in calculation. Still he nods to the sables that have entered the room. These five sables are average sized werewolves. As they crowd in on John and Moriarty: John sees Moriarty slip out the doorway. 

If they were wise, these werewolves would manifest to their human form. More room to navigate in the smallish space. But these sables are of barely average intelligence. So they attempt to come at John as one. Using forceful kicks, John goes for eyes, delicate noses and easily over extended lower jaws. They underestimate his power, strength and speed. With only his body weight, John severely injures and renders unconscious the five sables.

John tries again to manifest, but the solution that Moriarty administered still thwarts his attempts. Nothing for it then. He sets his sites on capturing Moriarty. This has to end here or Moriarty will keep returning. His dark scenarios constantly attempting to bring chaos to John’s menage.

Though he is in human form, still his olfactory sense is hyper acute. Moriarty has an odd scent. Like a cross between mold, mildew and stagnate water. Very unappetizing. 

(-_-)

Revitalized by Molly’s quick meal. Sherlock and Molly go to rejoin the main group, when they come across Lestrade and Hudders at the head of the colonnades formation.

“I think I know where they are headed. The old catacombs at the outer edge of the forest.” No one questions Hudders knowledge. It is one of the many advantages of being as old as dirt.

(-_-)

John has tracked down Moriarty. Changed to his Were form he looms over John. Saliva dripping from his open mouth.

John smiles up into Moriarty’s Werewolf face. “I was born the runt of the litter as were you. I know what it is to be the last pup at the teat. You and I went in different directions. Through strength of will, I became leader, ‘Hunter of Stars’ my people call me. We’ve traveled different paths that have brought us to this point in time. You have chosen unwisely. You have sought out chaos and destruction; letting your anger and rage guide you. You want to rule, but can only do so by the cruelty and power of a dark heart. My people seek my council because it is wise and compassionate. You can never hope to have what I have. Though I know it is what you desire above all things.”

**’Hunter of Stars’.** Moriarty snorts a breath at John, ruffling his grey hair and fur, baring his sharp teeth. **You are nothing. You are beneath me.**

“For me, that is a good thing.” John laughs. Jumping between the black Were’s front legs, he does a round house kick into the Were’s genitals. Exiting quickly from beneath the Were as he curls into a tight ball of pain. 

There on the floor, John sees the darts that were used on him. Along with the sling used to propel the dart that entered his body. Taking up two of the darts, he walks over to the whimpering Were and stabs them both into his backside.

Moriarty manifests into his human form writhing on the ground, then goes limp as his mind disintegrates into the oblivion that the solution causes.

Grabbing hold of the now unconscious human, John seeks the exit of this warren of caves dragging the limp form as if he weighted nothing at all. “If my Nurada has been injured by your sables, you will pay dearly for it Moriarty.”

Finding the exit, John revels in the clean air. Taking his bearings, he knows where he is. It would be a shorter run in his Were form to make it home, but it will be a longer walk dragging his baggage in human form. “Nothing for it.” He begins his trek.

Nearly a mile from the catacombs, he is delighted to find Hudders, Lestrade, Molly and Sherlock coming to his rescue.

Sherlock runs to John’s side, still in Were form he takes him up into his fore arms. Crushing the human with his Were strength. **John! I was so worried. I thought we’d find you – dead.**

**Down Sherlock, put him down so he can breathe.** 

Realizing his strength might be impeding John’s ability to breathe, he loosens his hold just a bit.

“You can’t lose me, my Nurada. Lestrade, I have something for you here.” He gestures toward the limp form of Moriarty.

“John, how did you manage to get free of him? Last we heard, Sherlock said that the brindle had carried you off.” Lestrade dismounts to cuff the non-resistant Moriarty.

“They forget I’m a hard Were to kill. Moriarty is, at best, a pestilence that needs to be rooted out. Now, I want to go home. Unfortunately, I will need to straddle someone to get a ride home. I have been dosed with a solution that inhibits my ability to manifest.”

Sherlock defies Molly to even offer John a ride. He hefts John onto his shoulders and proudly prepares for the journey home.

“You’ll find five sables in the old catacombs.”

“Not to worry, John. We’ll clean up this mess. We have to wait for the rest of the Weres and Westerns to arrive and turn everyone around anyway.” Hudders is ever the best clean up woman in the menage. 

Molly and Sherlock head back home. Sherlock is beside himself with joy. Trying to look back over his shoulder as he’s talking to John makes for walking into things.

Before they know it the entire of the Weres and Westerns that had come to rescue John are caught up to Jah and his Nurada. There is joyous howling and human cheers and revelry at the finding of John. Hoping to return to his dwelling and settle in with his Nurada isn’t going to happen any time soon.

Everyone returns to the colonnade. There is to be celebration. Did anyone ever tell you that Weres and Westerns really, really know how to celebrate? The humans of the colonnade are due for a tantalizing taste of true jubilation. 

In the early hours of the morning Sherlock staggers home; pushed and prodded by John who keeps telling him that he is a light-weight when it comes to partying. John nudges his rock ‘door’ open and the bonded pair tumble in. Sherlock is sprawled on the ground his paws dangling up in the air. John closes the door and sits on Sherlock’s flank.

**Am I lying down or up?** Sherlock asks. 

John turns his head upside down and looks into his Nurada’s eyes. “Right now you look like you need to be laid.”

Sherlock smiles with his Werewolf muzzle. His eyes alight with his overflowing love for his…?” Manifesting to human form he asks. “If I am your Nurada, what are you, John?”

“I am the Werewolf who has been fortunate enough to have found you. The only love of my life.”

“No, I mean if my designation is Nurada what is yours?”

“I, I am your Vashta Nurada, my dear. You are the beloved. I’m enthralled of the beloved.”

Sherlock kisses those much sought after lips of John’s. He knows he is going to be a very happy Werewolf/human for the rest of his life.


End file.
